Marcus’s words still echoed off the obsidian walls.
Midnight. Not dawn.
Four hours. That was all the time Soren had given us before he started carving pieces off my mother.
I shoved away from Damien’s chest, the blood on my dress smearing between us like a warning. My legs were steady even though my heart was trying to claw its way out of my ribs. The silver inside me didn’t feel like panic anymore. It felt like lightning looking for a target.
“We leave now,” I said.
Damien’s gold eyes snapped to mine. “No.”
The single word dropped like a blade. He stepped forward, crowding me against the table again, one hand braced beside my hip, the other sliding up to cup the back of my neck. His thumb pressed over my pulse like he could slow it down by sheer force of will.
“You are not walking
